


Dreaming of Sharing Worlds

by screwstyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ...at the end, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Louis, Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, Solo Louis, Sub Harry, solo harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screwstyles/pseuds/screwstyles
Summary: It appears that Harry is not a favourite look to Louis. His face twists the moment his eyes register Harry and he crosses his arms in what could either be a protective or a stand-offish gesture. Could be both.“I suppose this explains why Lottie suddenly remembered she had a shopping outing planned for everyone but me,” he says, voice even and calculated. He turns around without another word, but to Harry’s surprise, leaves the door open, walking in and nodding for Harry to do the same when he doesn’t move immediately.“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re stubborn. So I’d rather have this conversation inside than standing on the porch freezing me bits off.”-Canon Compliant Solo Era: Harry and Louis never got together in the band, but that doesn't mean Harry's not gonna try and fix his mistakes now. He's just not sure Louis is going to let him.





	Dreaming of Sharing Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god. It's out. 
> 
> This fic was both the longest and the quickest to write and I'm positively surprised I ever got this out goshhh. It's my first less-than-happy one, too, so it feels like a big thing. Out into the world you go, child.
> 
> My prompt for the ficfest was:
> 
> Alternative universe where bdsm is part of society and people get tested on whether they're a dom or sub. After hiatus starts with solo Harry and solo Louis.
> 
> Whoever submitted this, I hope you enjoy what I did with it.
> 
> My biggest thank you goes out to I who patiently kept telling me to write when I was being stubborn, and sent me the loveliest encouragements along the way. And told me off when I was meant to be writing but was on tumblr instead. And helped me find motivation when I wanted to watch tv instead :( you are a gem.
> 
> S, who found too much joy in my poor time planning and rush to the finish - I pulled a you. Thank you for all your tips!
> 
> Finally, to my beta K, who went through this whole thing in less than 24 hours with incredibly short notice. Thank you and I'm sorry !!!! You deserve a gift basket.
> 
> Title is from LSD by ASAP Rocky.

Harry’s foot keeps nervously bouncing up and down on the plush carpet. He watches the resulting movement of his knee, transfixed. It’s a constant up-and-down, up-and-down, and it keeps his mind focused on one precise thing rather than let it wander and hype him into a panic again. That’s what he’s been feeling for the past week since he made his decision—panicked, nervous, scared. Unsure. Doubtful. It’s an odd mix of emotions sitting and swirling inside him, making him jump between one extreme mood to another. His mind feels sort of like a tennis ball being hit from one end to the other except he’s both players and the cause of his own misery.

He looks around the reception room again, hoping looking away from his own nervous wreck of a body will distract him for a minute. The faces are still the same, boys and girls just turned seventeen. He’s definitely the oldest person in the room by far—certainly the only one over twenty. He knew most people got tested the second they could, the vast majority within the first week, but there were only a handful who waited over a year, nevermind eight.

He has received a few curious looks, but he can’t tell whether it’s _that_ look when people recognise him, or if this is a more general _you’re too old to be doing this now_ look. In this case, he hopes it’s the former. His skin is crawling enough without them judging him and the clinic assured him that all the clients were very strict on privacy, both their own and other’s.

His finger instinctively drifts to the little mark left by the doctor where they drew blood for the tests two hours ago and he rubs at it again. It’s silly trying to tell your own blood to give him the desired results, but. Desperate times.

Speaking of desperate.

“Mr. Styles, please come through.”

The doctor’s voice shakes him from his trance and he practically jumps, eager to get this over with. His hands feel clammy and he wipes them on his trousers before following through the double doors.

He takes a seat in the swivel chair and looks up at the woman flipping through his chart. She smiles kindly at him and he can only imagine how ridiculous she must think he is; a twenty-five year old man stressing over something that every teenager can´t wait to be old enough to do. He didn´t even bring anyone with him to calm him down, nor did he tell his family or friends. There’s really only one reason he wants to know and the reason hasn’t spoken to him in over a year.

“Shall we start, then?” she begins with a quick glance up at Harry. He nods. “You’re in good health, but because our technology is more adapt at determining Disposition for younger patients, it took a bit longer than usual. Once again, I have to remind you that this is only a biological factor and doesn’t actually change anything about you. Think of it as finding out that your great grandmother had blue eyes and not green like your immediate family. Genetic, but nothing to set your course by.”

Harry wants to roll his eyes, but keeps it together, dutifully nodding again. It doesn’t matter either way. It’s simple anatomy that opposite Dispositions fit. He doesn’t know anyone who didn’t end up with an opposite-Disposition partner, hasn’t ever heard of that.

“I understand that. Can we just get to the results? Please,” he adds, impatient.

“Of course,” the doctor smiles and reads out his results.

-

Harry remembers the first time he learnt Louis’ Disposition. One Direction had just been put together and they were all aware of the long journey they had in front of them to make it through The X-Factor. He can’t remember whose idea it was, but someone suggested they take a week off to get to know each other and bond before being thrown to the wolves. They ended up in Harry’s stepdad’s bungalow, which was a pretty good set up with many late nights spent swimming, watching countless films, and eating rubbish food. It was the turning point where instead of five strangers, they started feeling like five brothers, even with Niall’s smelly socks and Liam’s excessive concern for their alcohol consumption.

Well, most of them felt like brothers.

Harry had never really felt an instant connection to someone before, hadn’t ever quite clicked with anyone so seamlessly and completely that you didn’t know where one person began and the other one ended. He hadn’t ever felt like he could immerse himself in someone so much he could trust them with anything and everything, but he felt it with Louis. He loved the other boys, but what he felt for Louis was on a whole another level.

He hadn’t known friendship could be so intense. He remembers the first night they arrived, Zayn, Niall and Liam crashing into bed immediately, claiming exhaustion from the long drive up north. He and Louis hadn’t felt like sleeping yet and instead laid down on the grass in the backyard, passing between them a bottle of wine they had found in the kitchen. Harry felt so giddy laying side by side, watching the stars, and listening to Louis’ soothing voice.

Louis told him about his mum and how she had found out her Disposition together with Louis’ father and they had begged Louis’ grandparents to let them marry as soon as they knew they fit.

“I think it’s so romantic. They knew they were meant to be right away and barely needed the confirmation. I want that. I wanna marry my other half,” Louis said, looking Harry in the eyes with a gentlest smile on his face.

“You will. You’re the best person I’ve ever met,” Harry said, giving Louis’s hand a squeeze where it lay between them. “Do you know yours?” Harry asked, taking another swig from the wine bottle.

“I think I do,” Louis nodded, not breaking eye contact.

“You think you do? Isn’t it, like, one or the other?” Harry asked, chuckling at Louis’ nonsensical reply. Maybe he drank too much.

“Oh, Disposition?” Louis’ face steeled itself and he cleared his throat. He sat up to lean on his elbows and looked away for a second, biting his lip. When he looked back, there were a few million feelings reflected in his expression, but the combination of alcohol and exhaustion meant Harry couldn’t quite decipher it. “Yeah, I got tested on my birthday.”  

Harry gasped in excitement. “That’s what I plan to do, too. I can’t wait to know. How was it? Which one are you? Did it hurt? Were you alone?”

Louis laughed at the barrage of questions that came from Harry all in quick succession.

“Can’t tell you everything, can I? Should leave some excitement for your own testing.” He winked. “I’m a Dom. My mum came with me, which was…well, it was awkward at first, but not as bad as you might think. It’s basically a blood test and then you have to hang around for an hour or so until they call you in and tell you. But I guess it’s not that much about which one you turn out to be as much as it is about matching with the person you love. So, until then, I’m a Dom all on my own.”

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. “You mean, you haven’t—”

Louis shook his head before the sentence was out. “I’m waiting for someone special. I don’t even care if they’re a Dom or a Sub, I just want it to be a person I care deeply for. I sort of wanna continue my parents’ legacy so my first is someone I spend the rest of my life with. 

“You’ll have it all, I’m sure,” Harry agreed with all the confidence of a sixteen year old. “If all goes to plan, I want nothing less of a Jane Austen novel-worthy love life and it would be damn right cruel to let me have that and deprive my best friend of that,” Harry declared, only half-joking. “There will be millions of Subs throwing themselves at your feet once we get famous.”

“Another plan of yours, Curly? Get famous? You seem to have big plans for us.”

After that, the topic changed to the band and they didn’t discuss Dispositions any further. Sure, it was brought up when the rest of the boys shared their own, then again when Niall got tested on his birthday, but for the most part it seemed Louis was done with the topic. When Harry’s seventeenth birthday eventually rolled around and he didn’t get tested like everyone had expected him to, no one really mentioned it. They were too busy, too preoccupied with what was going to happen to them as a band to care or remember, whichever it was. Harry wasn’t too keen to find out and never asked.

He still doesn’t know, but he hopes for the latter.

- 

Life as a newly Disposition-tested member of society isn’t much different than it was before. He still cooks, he sees his friends and family, he flies out to Tokyo and Barcelona and Los Angeles and Sydney and records his album, attends a wedding, and releases a single. He’s not really sure what he expected to change, but apart from the constant stream of _we fit we fit we fit I screwed it up we fit we always fit_ running through his mind, it’s very similar to the pre-test version of his life.

He hasn’t told anyone about his new discovery, so no one has had the chance to pester him about it, which is both a minus and a plus. He’s not sure he wants to talk about it, but he would like the chance to do so, either way.

“Good thing we’ve already recorded the album, because that is certainly _not_ how a guitar should be played,” Mitch tells Harry once they end the current song they’re rehearsing. “You’re handling it like you’re punishing it for existing. Chill out, man.”

“I miss the days when you would barely speak to me,” Harry bites back, but eases his grip on the neck of the guitar where, indeed, his fingers are clasping it so tightly it’s a surprise he hasn’t crushed the wood under it.

“I’m just watching out for you,” Mitch says faux-innocently and turns to Sarah sitting behind the drums, watching them in amusement. “Back me up, darling?”

She purses her lips for a second as if in thought and then addresses Mitch. “I think we should call in the Guinness World Record people. They’d be happy to see the first guitar that combusted from sheer willpower.”

“I’m firing you both. From now on the band is Clare, Adam, and me and we will take the world by storm with our keyboard-and-bass combo,” Harry threatens, picking up a water bottle from the side of the stage and chucking it at Sarah. She catches it with one hand, barely blinking.

“Show off,” Harry mutters and looks away when Mitch walks over to kiss her. No point in wishing for something he can’t have.

“Why are you trying to fire half the band?” Jeff walks in, clearly having caught the tail-end of the conversation. He’s focused on his phone, no doubt texting another reporter and scheduling an interview Harry won’t be told about until thirty minutes before it starts. Jeff may be devious, but he knows how to force Harry into social events.

“I wanna start a three-piece folk bank and tour 18th century themed festivals,” Harry responds at the same time as Adam says, “If he doesn’t fire us first, we might get rid of him instead.” Harry glares at him, although judging by Clare’s giggles it comes off less intimidating and more petulant.

Jeff stops texting for a second and has a long look at everyone with the attitude of an unimpressed parent. “How about you try and get along and I’ll rethink sending you off to Antarctica.” He turns back to his phone and walks out, effectively ending the conversation.

“The penguins would make better friends than you guys,” Harry mutters. 

“The penguins would also make a better guitar player than you,” Clare shoots back. Really, he should have seen that one coming.

-

For the month before the release of his album, he lays low, enjoying the relative peace before promo really kicks off and he visits three countries a week. He sees his mum and Gemma, he takes time to enjoy London and reconnects with his kitchen, putting in effort to cook at home every night. He catches up on TV and recharges his batteries while he has the opportunity.

He even convinces his mum to come to London, which is always a feat considering she’s northern through and through. She agrees to stay for a week, which is great up until he comes home to find his whole house décor rearranged.

He flops down on the sofa and has a look at the shelf containing all of his music paraphernalia. The top shelf, where his vinyls are standing, has obviously experienced some changes as he specifically left it with _Dark Side of the Moon_ and _Is This It_ facing out. Sue him, he liked the contrast of the colours. Now it’s been replaced with Miles Davis, his mum’s favourite, and—

“Mum, did you rearrange my vinyls?” he shouts, his throat tight. Anne comes in a second later, hair in a bun and an apron on. You win some, you lose some.

“Not intentionally. Was finding something to listen to while I cleaned,” she shrugged, looking up at the shelf. “It’s a pretty cover Louis has for his own vinyl, thought it looked nice out. I found it behind all the other records. I didn’t know he put out a vinyl version.”

Harry swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s no help since the vinyl has brought back all the feelings, everything he’s been repressing since he stopped talking to Louis. Or rather, since Louis stopped talking to him.

“He didn’t,” Harry grits out, then hiccups as the unwelcome tears come to the surface. His mum is there in a second, hugging him and petting at his hair as he covers his face and lets himself feel. “It was a gift for him. I never gave it to him,” he sobs, burying his face in his hands and breathing unevenly.

He thought that by not talking about it, maybe it would all go away, but now it feels like he smacked a plaster on a bullet wound and forgot about it. It never stopped bleeding and he never stopped hurting.

“And what’s stopping you from giving it to him now?” Anne asks gently, comfortingly rubbing circles into his shoulder and letting him have a moment when he doesn’t respond right away.

“He doesn’t wanna talk to me. I got tested for him to see if maybe I hadn’t screwed anything up because we were never compatible, but we are, Mum, we were. Last time I saw him, he said he can’t let me keep toying with his emotions for any longer.”

They sit in silence for a minute, processing what’s been said. Harry knows he’s just dropped a bomb on her, that she is most likely sad he didn’t trust her with his testing, so he doesn’t rush her as the only thing that breaks the silence is his laboured breathing.

“Well, did you? Did you toy with his emotions? I would hope to think I raised my son better than to hurt someone he loves. Did you not break up clean?” she finally asks. Harry snaps his gaze up to see her serene, if somewhat cautious face. She’s already watching him.

“God, I never told you, did I? We were never together,” he confesses.

“But I assumed…You two were…” she starts and stops, then starts again. “Harry, best friends don’t look at each other like you two did. I thought you two just wanted to keep it private. That between all the fame, you wanted something that you didn’t have to share with anyone.”

Harry starts shaking his head before she’s done speaking, memories of him and Louis, young and charmed by one another replaying in his mind. He wishes he could go back to when they met, make himself understand the difference between platonic and romantic love.

“I didn’t know I was in love with him until the band broke up. And then when I realised, I got so stupidly drunk and kissed him. I just wanted to know what it felt like, even once, and then I got scared and ran away and pretended I didn’t remember anything.”

“But you’ve seen him since, haven’t you?” Anne prods. She’s always been like this, knowing just how far she can push him without crossing the line, which is good, because it’s exactly what Harry needs right now. He needs someone to pull it out of him not-so-gently and not stop until he’s talked-out.

Harry wipes at a tear and continues. “Yeah. I wanted to get tested that whole time, but I was so afraid of getting the wrong result and finding out we couldn’t be together that I never did. Then a year ago, he told me he loved me and thought that maybe now I would do something about it. That he’d been waiting since the kiss for me to do something about us. I was so, so afraid I would lose him that I told him I didn’t remember the kiss and that’s when he said I couldn’t keep playing around with his feelings. I flew in when his mum died, but otherwise, we haven’t spoken.”

Anne takes his hand in hers and rubs soothingly, shushing when another wave of panic overcomes him. “I was so scared of losing him that I ended up letting the fear come between us. I screwed up, Mum,” he cries, lip trembling and eyes barely seeing from behind the curtain of wetness that’s gathered in them.

“It’s okay, darling. Everyone does sometimes. It’s not about how badly you screw up, it’s about how you deal with it. You’ve loved each other for so long. I don’t think he’s forgotten about you at all. You’ll find a way to make it better, I know you will,” she consoles him. When he’s calmed down a bit and doesn’t feel like he might combust any second, she goes on. “Now, want to tell me about your Disposition?”

-

Anne spends the next three days making his house feel lived in, buying flowers and fruit bowls to put in every room possible. She cooks and buys little knickknacks that don’t, for once, come as part of a big set, such as bath gels and throw pillows which makes his house feel less like a hotel. She doesn’t walk on eggshells around him either which he appreciates, instead sending him off on shop runs and giving him daily chores. He feels like he’s fifteen again and while at any other point in time it might be annoying, right now, it’s exactly what he needs. God bless his mum, really.

When she reluctantly leaves, he still has a week before he’s needed anywhere. The house feels empty and he’s not in a mood to see his friends, even if Nick has invited him to at least three events he is aware of and another three he isn’t.

Harry spends the first day trying his best to keep busy. He goes to the gym, books a massage appointment, and finishes a book he’s been trying to find the time to read for the past year, which is all good, but when he actually has time to do these things, they don’t feel half as nice as he imagines when he’s up to his ears in plans. By evening, he’s exhausted from doing nothing, heading to bed before nine with a restless mind and determination to do something more productive the next day.

Despite his best efforts, he doesn’t do much better. He does see Nick for coffee, which is progress, but the other twelve hours of being awake he spends antsy and wishing for his free time to end so he can have a strict schedule again and no time to _think_.

It’s perhaps because of this state of mind, that when he wakes up the next day to a text message from Lottie, he doesn’t think twice before packing an overnight bag and jumping into his Range Rover. He realises he’s still in his pyjamas about twenty minutes in.

He calculates that without any stops, he should be there by eleven, which he thinks might be overkill for a serious conversation he hopes he’s about to have, so he stops in a shopping village to buy day appropriate clothes and have some coffee. His appetite is non-existent with the nervous ball of energy bouncing around in his gut, so he takes the time to look at Lottie’s message again.

_He’s home in Doncaster for three days. Text me when you’re 30min out._

He’s pretty sure his mum is somehow behind this, but as it is, he doesn’t want to ruin his one half-chance by overthinking. If he goes down that road, he’ll think about Louis’ face when he sees him and how much he wouldn’t want him there, how hurt Louis looked the last time they saw each other, both after his mum died and before when Louis told him he couldn’t have Harry in his life anymore. He doesn’t know which one was worse, seeing Louis in agony knowing there was nothing he could do, or finally realising how much pain he’s been causing the man he loves over many years. Either way, he doubts seeing him will bring up good memories for Louis.

-

2011

Harry has barely turned seventeen when the first questions about his Disposition hit. The interviewer is a woman in her forties and has been flirting with him the whole interview, flicking her hair unnecessarily and touching his knee way too intimately for his liking. She’s ignored two answers that Liam has given her to instead giggle suggestively at Harry, who feels beyond uncomfortable and just wants this interview to end.

“And Harry, what exactly do you look for in a Sub?” she asks as soon as Niall finishes giving an answer to the last question she asked. She didn’t even listen to the answer.

He goes speechless, not sure what to say. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for in a Sub, because he doesn’t even know _if_ he’s looking for a sub. He shouldn’t have to share this with someone he met ten minutes ago just because he’s now permanently in the public eye. He smiles at her hesitantly and begins to form a vague response about seeing where life takes him when Louis loops an arm around his shoulders and interrupts him.

“That’s a bit personal, isn’t it? We’re not exactly asking about your sex life, so maybe you can extend us that courtesy. Unless, of course, you want to state your preferences on national TV,” he fake-smiles at her, squeezing Harry’s shoulder.

She splutters, clearly not expecting that response, but to her credit recovers quickly. “No, I don’t think so,” she says, clearly disappointed if not ashamed. She doesn’t look in Harry’s direction for the rest of the interview.

When they’re out for a break, Harry grabs a water bottle and two apples. He finds Louis out back with a cigarette, a new habit he’s taken up since the band got busier and that he’s managed to hide from everyone but Harry and Zayn, who sometimes joins him. He looks calm, but Harry can see the slight furrowing of his brows, the impatient tap of his finger on the cigarette.

He offers up one of the apples to Louis, who takes it with a small smile.

“You didn’t have to do that, Lou. I could have handled it,” Harry starts slowly, aware that Louis’ not famous for his even temper. To his surprise, Louis doesn’t explode like he half-expects him to, only sighs sadly.

“I know that, babe. You’re a big boy. I just hate that they think they can ask you that. I hate that they think they have the right to know anything about you,” he says, taking a drag and holding it in with his eyes closed. He exhales slowly, opening his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to deal with those pricks.”

Harry hums. “No, I shouldn’t. But that’s not going to change overnight. And you’re gonna get so much shit from management again.”

Louis laughs bitterly. “Fuck management. They would find the smallest reason to separate us. So what if half the fans think we’re dating? I don’t how see how that’s a concern.” Harry knows Louis is lying—their management explains why it’s a concern on a weekly basis, but he doesn’t think Louis would appreciate hearing it right now. “If they’re gonna make it worse, at least it can be for a good reason.”

They stand there for a minute in silence, Harry eating his apple and Louis finishing up his cigarette, looking at the empty backyard. It feels important that they have this moment, even if Harry doesn’t quite know why. It feels significant.

“Thank you,” he finally says when Louis throws down his cigarette butt and stomps it out. “You’re the best friend I could have ever asked for.”

“Anything for you, Curly,” Louis smiles at him, ruffling his hair.

“Even eating that apple? I don’t think I can get you to eat your five-a-day, but hell if I’m not going to try.”

“Don’t push it,” Louis narrows his eyes at him, but dutifully takes a bite of his apple.

-

As promised, thirty minutes before he’s due to arrive, he stops at a petrol station to text Lottie. She promises to leave the house in twenty with the other siblings, giving Harry and Louis some privacy, which Harry appreciates. Maybe if Lottie let him come and is ready to change her day’s plans at a moments’ notice for him, she thinks there’s hope.

He starts the last leg of the drive with his heart rabbiting in his chest, hands sweaty on the wheel. To get to Louis’ house, he has to drive through the actual town centre as it’s located on the opposite outskirts as the motorway he takes to get there. Just seeing all the familiar places Louis took him time after time after time is nearly enough to make him change his mind and head back to London, but he presses on and dutifully takes every turn until he’s parked outside Louis’ family’s house.

He feels small looking at it, the weight of memories pushing him down. He’s spent countless nights inside that house, making a home away from home and finding people he loved like his own family. It’s too bad he never realised until it was too late.

_I’m here to fix that now,_ he thinks stubbornly, hopping out of the car and walking up the few steps to the porch. He’s not sure if he should knock or ring the doorbell, afraid Louis might slam the door in his face before it’s even halfway open, but he presses the button quickly before he has a chance to talk himself out of it. Louis’ gonna see him sooner or later, he might as well have some manners.

There’s no response for a minute, the house completely silent as far as he can hear, so much that he thinks maybe Louis went out too. He’s considering ringing again for good measure before coming back later when the door swings open to reveal a soft-looking, joggers-and-jumper wearing Louis.

He has a smattering of scruff covering his cheeks and his hair is ruffled like he has no plans for the day and didn’t bother with his appearance too much. It’s Harry favourite look on him. 

It appears that Harry, however, is not a favourite look to Louis. His face twists the moment his eyes register Harry and he crosses his arms in what could either be a protective or a stand-offish gesture. Could be both.

“I suppose this explains why Lottie suddenly remembered she had a shopping outing planned for everyone but me,” he says, voice even and calculated. He turns around without another word, but to Harry’s surprise, leaves the door open, walking in and nodding for Harry to do the same when he doesn’t move immediately.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re stubborn. So I’d rather have this conversation inside than standing on the porch freezing me bits off.”

They settle down in the living room, sat on the opposite ends of the sofa. Louis’ whole demeanour is reluctant, like he’s at war with himself as to whether he should let Harry stay or not. So far he hasn’t said anything, so the agreeable side must be winning. 

“Hi, Lou,” Harry starts once he gathers enough courage. Louis doesn’t respond, keeping his arms crossed, but his mouth twitches in recognition. He has so many things he wants to say, so much on his mind, he doesn’t know where to start. There’s too much history between them, but at the same time there’s not enough—not the right kind, anyway. Harry’s brain is mushy in the worst way, unable to string thoughts together, so what he ends up blurting out is not at all how he planned to open the conversation.

“I got tested,” he says. They might not be the right words, but Louis flinches, rocking forward towards Harry where he’s sitting. He adjusts back once he realises what he’s done, but uncrosses his arms and his body visibly tenses up even more.

“That’s…. congratulations. I know how big a deal it is to you,” he says sincerely, looking up at Harry with his face open. “Was,” he corrects nearly immediately. Harry sort of wants to cry, not because of how Louis thinks he doesn’t know him anymore, but because even at a time like this, when just looking at Harry must be painful to him, he still finds it in himself to be kind to Harry.

“We never discussed it, but people don’t just avoid their Disposition unless they have a very good reason. I trust you’ve come to terms with yours?” Louis asks. It’s so like him to inquire, but not push. To care, but not prod.

Harry nods, which puts a small, if sad, smile on Louis’ face. “That’s good. You deserve to be at peace.”

Harry wishes he could read more into Louis’ words and behaviour, but all he finds is sincerity and care. He doesn’t think he deserves it from the man in front of him, but he’ll take what he can get. While he has Louis like this, willing and open, he goes again.

“I’m a Sub.” He barely gets the words out before Louis audibly gasps, shock visible on his face. He stares at Harry wide-eyed, mouth half-open, then bites at his lip. It’s gone quick, and he recollects himself, sitting back and crossing his arms again. Bad move, Harry.

“That doesn’t really matter, does it?” Louis insists, petulance in his voice.

“It does to me,” Harry answers, even if he has a feeling Louis doesn’t want to hear it. “I was sat in that reception room at the doctor’s, willing myself not to freak out and leave before I even heard the results. I knew that any moment the doctor would come out and tell me and I was only going to be happy with one answer.”

Louis swallows audibly and glances at Harry, his mouth a tight line. He doesn’t make direct eye contact, instead focusing on a point somewhere above Harry’s shoulder, then directs his gaze towards his lap. He uncrosses his arms, wraps one around his torso and nervously shuffles the other one, finally placing it in his lap and inspecting his fingernails in thought. 

“That’s not true. You could be happy with both.” Harry notices how he doesn’t say, _you would be happy with both_. He hopes it means Louis’ not completely lost to him, even if the look on his face doesn’t fill him with much confidence.

“But I only wanted to be happy with one,” Harry says quietly, his voice nearly breaking halfway through. He closes his eyes, willing himself not to cry, twisting his arms in his lap. He sits like that for a second, breathing in deeply and letting it out shakily, but more composed with every breath.

He doesn’t open his eyes until he feels a small hand wrap around his. Louis looks a mixture of angry and vulnerable, but has shifted closer to Harry and is now soothingly rubbing small circles into the back of Harry’s hand.

“You hurt me, Harry. You kissed me and then shut me out of your life like I didn’t matter. I’ve loved you since I first saw you and you didn’t respect me enough to be honest with me. I don’t know how we can go on after that. I don’t know if I want to give you the opportunity to break my heart again.” Louis’ face is open and sincere as if he genuinely regrets his words, but stern all the same.

A year ago, Harry would have taken this and turned away, but he didn’t drive all the way here to let Louis slip through his fingers again. He thinks about going back to his everyday life, touring the world and recording an album and doing it all alone without his Louis by his side, and he doesn’t want that. He can’t have that.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again, Louis. I will forget our anniversary and I will get irrationally jealous over you and I will miss your calls while I’m out partying, but I will never do those things intentionally. On paper, I’ve had the best time since the band broke up, but whenever I’m at my happiest or saddest, I never want anyone but you. I couldn’t call, you wouldn’t have picked up, and that made the last year nearly unbearable.”

Harry takes a steadying breath and moves his hand to squeeze Louis’ palm where it’s still in his lap. He’s too afraid to look up at his face.

“I wish I could go back to the moment I realised I was in love with you. You had just come backstage after our last gig and you looked so exhausted, like you could fall asleep standing up, and you crashed onto the couch and said something like, ‘ _If I never get up again it’ll be too soon’._ Then Liam ran in saying he had lost his puppy and you got up in a second and helped him look for it all night. I remember thinking you had the biggest heart and that I wanted to be loved by someone like that and then realised that I _was_. I wish I could go back to that moment and tell you then, not waste all this time we could have spent together.”

Silence falls over them as soon as Harry finishes, nothing but the occasional wind breeze outside breaking it. They sit like that for minutes, neither saying anything, mulling over Harry’s words.

“I’m so sorry, Louis. I want to earn your trust again. We were so good as best friends. I want to show you how good we can be as best friends and lovers.”

Harry lifts his head to meet Louis’ eyes. Even with the rest of his face still tense, they are bright and full of forgiveness. 

“I can’t promise I’m gonna fully trust you in the beginning, Harry. I don’t know if in a year’s time I still won’t be insecure about where we stand,” Louis begins, his voice huskier than usual, like maybe his throat is tight and speaking is a hardship. “But if you want to, I’m willing to try.”

“I want to,” Harry breathes out immediately, heart picking up speed until it’s rabbiting in his chest. He imagined this a million times during his drive to Doncaster, but it still feels like a distant fantasy. “I’m not gonna give you more reasons to doubt me.”

Slowly, he reaches out for Louis, like if he moves too fast he’ll scare him and Louis will go back on his word. When Louis doesn’t flinch, but instead wraps a hand around Harry’s waist and pulls him in, he slides easily into Louis’ lap, making himself comfortable. He smiles down at Louis, sharing a moment, before slightly leaning in.

“I’m sorry I did it wrong the last time,” Harry whispers, before fully closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Louis’. It’s small and gentle, tentative to begin with, but grows in intensity as they both seem to realise that this is real, that they’ve come full circle to a place where they can kiss without bolting away right after.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Louis whispers as they separate, squeezing Harry’s waist lightly and giving him another peck. “You’re my best friend through thick and thin. I woke up every day and I wanted to text you, but you were so far away. I could never do it.” He brings their mouths together again in desperation, starved for Harry.

Harry’s head is spinning with how good it is to be with Louis again, how good it is to finally _be_ Louis’. He breaks away to curl around Louis, his face buried in Louis’ neck, breathing in his familiar smell and feeling calmer than he has in months. No matter what he did, Louis was always his go-to, and to be back in his arms feels like all the weight of the world he didn’t know he was carrying has just been lifted off his shoulders.

He doesn’t realise he’s sobbing from pure relief until Louis starts whispering to him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair as Harry tries to let the reality settle in. He’s with Louis, finally, and neither of them are going anywhere. It’s a lot to take in and he’s exhausted from his drive. With the warmth emanating from Louis’ body and his calming voice in the background, Harry slips into the first restful sleep he’s had in a long time.

- 

Settling into their new life together isn’t as easy as they had hoped. With Harry’s single out and a promo schedule set up, he barely has a few days at home before he’s forced to fly back to LA. Louis hasn’t seen his family in a long time and isn’t keen on leaving them, so they stay in Doncaster for two more days before leaving for London. It’s cramped with Louis’ sisters and brother and step-father all under one roof and once the family returns that evening to find Harry and Louis still snuggled on the sofa, any privacy they had disappears.

Between school and hobby runs, cooking, doing the daily admin and family outings, they barely have time for more than a kiss and a quick joke here and there, and it nearly feels like they’re back to their One Direction days with how little time they have to themselves, really. Harry’s not complaining. He’s missed Louis’ family nearly as much as he missed Louis himself and to see all of his siblings for the first time in a long while makes him happier than he expected. Particularly Lottie, whom he’s practically seen grow up in front of his eyes, is a welcome addition with her snarky wit and easy cheer.

There’s an unspoken agreement to take things slow, despite having waited for literal years for this. As they drive down to London, they update each other on the latest news in their respective lives, and phone Harry’s mum to let her know that her and Lottie’s meddling actually worked. Judging by the not-too-subtle smugness in her voice, she already knows.

In the whole time before Harry leaves, they don’t have sex, although the do make out a lot which is sort of driving Harry crazy. Now that he knows what it’s like to have feel the heat and slickness of Louis’ mouth, his hands roaming his body, it’s a constant struggle not to practically beg Louis to take him to bed. He can respect Louis’ slow pace though, so he leaves for Los Angeles happy and horny.

- 

Los Angeles is…odd. The moment he arrives is the moment he starts planning his next visit to London and he feels he’s even more distracted than he was before he and Louis worked things out. He spends half the time glued to his phone waiting for a message from Louis and being told off by Jeff in a multitude of creative ways and the other half telling his brain to focus. He’s very unsuccessful, which the band notices.

“You getting some good dick or something? You’ve been in dreamland all day today,” Sarah notes once he comes back from an interview with some TV channel or another.

_No, but I should be_ , he thinks, but instead pretends he didn’t hear her. “Hmm?” he hums as he settles into the back of the car that will take them to their next location.

“Watched you shoot your interview. Don’t think the poor girl got a single straight answer out of you,” Sarah laughs, but in contrast to her mean words scoots over when Harry nudges her with his thigh.

“Just not with it today,” Harry answers, going for his phone again which is located in his back pocket, and has to dislodge Sarah again, who looks unhappy about the disruption. Good.

“We’ve seen you ‘not with it’,” Clare chimes in from the front seat, turning around to look at Harry suspiciously and wag her eyebrows, “and this is not it. You’re too cheery.”

“Where are the boys again? They wouldn’t do this to me,” Harry asks, affronted about how transparent he’s apparently being. He’s happy, sue him.

When they get to the venue they’re meant to be playing, he barely has time to walk in to the backstage before Adam notices him and a wicked smile spreads over his face.

“So who’s the lucky lad?” he asks faux-innocently. Harry doesn’t buy it for a second.

“You haven’t seen me today. How do you know anything?”

“Sarah texted me a video of you stirring your coffee with a dessert fork with a dopey smile on your face earlier today. I’m not saying you’re dick happy, but it sure looks that way,” Adam laughs, growing in volume once Harry glares at him.

“ _Sarah_ has created a monster,” Harry mutters, and leaves the room dramatically to get to his own dressing room. He only realises he forgot his phone there five minutes later—he would ignore it if not for the potential texts he could have missed from Louis. He walks back, hoping no one will notice his return, but once the band sees him scurrying over to his phone without making eye contact with any of them, they burst into laughter. Harry’s so going to fire all of them.

The next two days pass in a very similar fashion where Harry tries to be more covert about being glued to his phone and his band not falling for it for even a second. He’s pretty sure Jeff will actually send them all off to Antarctica in a not-so-very-distant future. He dutifully plays his shows, does his interviews, and posts on social media as instructed. He’s practically the poster boy for the music industry, which he texts to Louis, but receives no reply before he goes off to pre-show hair and make-up where he receives another brutal verbal battering from his team. 

Relief doesn’t come until that night when Harry falls into his hotel room ready to have a long bath and a frustrated wank and has to stop dead in his tracks when there’s a body lying on his bed.

The body smiles up at him, crinkly eyed and soft looking in an oversized hoodie.

“I scheduled room service to arrive at the same time as you, but you’re early, so you’ve ruined my plans. But I guess I’m still happy to see you,” Louis mock-sighs and sits up, happily opening his arms when Harry barrels into him in glee.

“We’ve only been apart for three days, you idiot. Embarrassing,” he laughs and kisses Harry happily through it.

“Too long. One hour is too long. Can’t stand being away,” Harry says, tracing the scruff on Louis’ chin with his fingertips and fisting his hoodie with his other hand. Louis smells fresh, and looks so good, and feels like home, and Harry is only a man. 

“I can see that,” Louis is still laughing, but is cut off when Harry moves his lips to his neck, sucking a mark into it. He groans and his one hand that’s in Harry’s hair pulls as a reflex, making Harry moan and breathe wetly onto Louis’ skin.

Louis separates the them for a second, bringing Harry’s head up and establishing eye contact. His pupils are blown and his cheeks slightly flushed, which in turn makes Harry flush. God, he’s so easy for Louis.

“You wanna?” Louis asks, not bothering to clarify what exactly they do or don’t want to do. Harry nods so fast he nearly snaps his neck.

“Please, yes, Louis. I’ve waited for so long,” he says, moving back onto Louis. He topples them over, and once he has Louis under him, he removes his own jacket he’s still wearing from the show. Even left only in a shirt and trousers, he feels overheated.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Louis answers, sliding his own hands up Harry’s shirt and holding his hips in a tight grip. Harry lowers his body enough to reach Louis’ lips with his own, and slides his tongue in to taste the inside of Louis’ mouth. Harry melts against him, letting Louis take charge. He does so happily, moving one hand to squeeze Harry’s arse while simultaneously grinding up against it with his growing erection, which elicits a pleased moan from Harry. 

“You gonna fuck me?” he asks, unashamed about what he wants. He’s been patient for a very long time and he’s not gonna be subtle now that he has Louis here like this.

“Yeah, darling, if that’s what you want. Can’t wait to be inside you,” Louis breathes, undoing the buttons on Harry’s shirt and struggling to take it off until Harry finally finds it in himself to take his hands off of Louis’ body and help him in his quest.

“Look at you, so pretty and worked up for me already, aren’t you?” Louis asks rhetorically, letting his fingers roam Harry’s body freely. They’re slightly calloused and feel rough on Harry’s skin. He never wants Louis to not be touching him.

Louis’ fingers one of his nipples and as he pinches it, Harry’s hips stutter and he mewls against Louis’ shoulder. Judging by Louis’ face, he likes the sound. 

“Can’t wait to explore your body, baby. You gonna be good for me? Let me have my way with you?”

“Yes, Louis, anything you want. Gonna be your good boy,” Harry says, letting Louis roll them over on the bed. Louis slides down to suck on Harry’s nipple, scratching at his sides as he does and making Harry squirm from how good the pain feels when Louis bites down slightly.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, darling. I’m gonna make you come with my mouth, and then you’re gonna open yourself up for me while I watch. I’m gonna fuck another orgasm out of you, and then I’ll fuck your mouth until I come on my hand. If you’re good, I’ll let you lick up my come as a reward. How’s that sound?”

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard in his life. He knew Louis was a Dominant, but seeing it for himself is a completely different experience. Louis’ voice is so authoritative and powerful, he feels he could come just from listening to it for long enough.

“Please, yes, to everything. I want it all,” Harry affirms and already gets a little thrill of pleasure running through him when he sees the pleasure reflected in Louis’ voice. He can’t wait to show him how well he can obey him. 

“Good boy. We’re gonna use the colour system which means whenever I ask, you have to give me an answer. If I don’t hear anything, I’ll stop immediately, okay? Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop immediately. You can, and should, tell me your colour whenever you want to even if I don’t ask for it. Your comfort is the most important thing here. Nod if you understand,” Louis tells him. Despite the hardness of his voice, he looks like he could turn off this version at any point should Harry need it.

Harry nods and then gulps as Louis starts working on the waistband of his trousers, rubbing at his cock with one hand as he undoes the button and slides the zipper down.

“You can be as loud as you want to unless I tell you otherwise,” Louis adds when he sees Harry biting down on his lip as he starts sliding off his trousers and pants in one go. Harry moans in response, looking down at where Louis is looking at his hard cock in wonder. He licks at the tip and Harry’s hand automatically goes to Louis’ head. Louis stops immediately.

“Hands above you,” he commands, face unreadable.

“But—” Harry starts to protest, only to be cut off by Louis. 

“I said, hands above you. Green?”

“Yeah, so green,” Harry answers. He obediently places his hands above his head, sparing a thought for not being able to touch Louis. “I trust you.” 

Louis places a small kiss to Harry’s thigh at his words, then moves his mouth back to Harry’s dick. He kitten-licks the tip, getting a taste for the precome already forming at Harry’s slit, and then barely wraps his lips around the head, providing just enough friction for Harry to want to buck up into. He starts a steady pace of tiny licks and occasional suction, never enough to give Harry what he wants, but just enough to start pushing him to the edge. He feels pent up, like all the tension of his body has gathered where Louis is touching him, and the only way he can unwind is if Louis lets him.

So far, Louis doesn’t seem keen on letting him.

“Lou, please, stop teasing,” Harry whines when Louis lets his tongue run another circle around the head of his dick, warm and wet and so good. 

“Go on, baby, wanna hear you beg for me,” Louis encourages, scratching up Harry’s sides as he slides his lips over the crown again, just keeping them there, not sucking. His cheeks are gorgeously hollowed and he looks menacing and angelic all at the same time.

“Please, Louis. Your mouth is so good, you feel so good. Wanna come for you, show you how you make me feel,” Harry begs, and as he does, Louis slides his mouth lower, taking more of his cock into his mouth. The tip hits the back of Louis’ throat, but it doesn’t deter him—instead he swallows around him, pulls back up, swirls his tongue around the tip, and goes low again until his nose is buried in the curls around Harry’s pelvis. 

Harry shuts his eyes, willing himself not to come too soon, but when Louis starts bobbing up and down, he’s practically helpless at that point. He looks down, meets Louis’ eyes from underneath his lashes and, wringing his hands together where he’s doing his best to keep them above his head, mewls pathetically.

“Can I come, Louis? I don’t think I can hold off,” he says, biting his lip when Louis pulls off his dick.

“Yeah, honey, show me how pretty you are when you come,” Louis tells him. He wraps his lips around the head, letting his tongue work at the sensitive underside until Harry shudders and comes in his mouth, hips jolting suddenly. 

He closes his eyes, floating from his orgasm, and feels the heat from around him disappear. A moment later there’s a presence around him, a hand wrapped around his lower tummy and kisses peppered to his jaw and cheeks. Louis’ scruff tickles him a bit, but it also sends a lightning bolt of energy through his body. Louis’ hand comes up to stroke his hair and he presses their lips together for a second.

“You good to go on?” he asks, always the dutiful Dominant. Harry opens his eyes and smiles up at Louis, nuzzling into the gentle touch of his hand and blinking up at him. 

“Good, Lou. Thank you. Wanna repay you,” he says, which kicks Louis into action nearly immediately.

He manhandles Harry to lie on the bed on his stomach, then pulls his hips up until he’s in a yoga-resembling position. Harry looks behind him to see Louis settle down on his knees behind him. He’s fully clothed apart from where he’s now unzipping his fly to pull out his cock. _Shit_ , Harry’s not even seen his cock yet and the thought makes him whine desperately into the pillow in front of him.

The juxtaposition makes Harry feel exposed, but not in an uncomfortable way. He’s completely naked compared to Louis, he’s on full view for Louis to look at all he wants whereas he can’t see Louis at all, and while he knows what they have planned for the evening, Louis is the one calling the shots. It makes him feel powerless and humiliated and just thinking about it already has his cock half-hard again.

He feels something cold placed in his hands and turns around to look at Louis, but is immediately met with an unsatisfied expression.

“Keep your head straight. No looking at me. Green?” Louis checks in and as Harry replies with _Yes, yes, green_ , Louis continues. “Open yourself up for me, stretch out well enough that I don’t have to double-check before I fuck you. Want your hole wet and open for me,” Louis instructs him, then falls silent.

Harry looks up at where his fingers are holding a tube of lube. He works to unscrew it and pour some on his fingers. It’s difficult to maneuver around the task with his balance less than stellar, but somehow he manages to slick up his fingers and bring them to his hole. He starts out slow, petting at his hole before he slides one in, taking his time getting used to it.

The sounds he’s making are wet and familiar and he doesn’t realise what’s breaking the silence of the hotel room is not only his fingers up his arse, but also a distinct sound of a hand sliding up and down a cock. He wants to crane his neck to see Louis behind him so he doesn’t have to leave it to his imagination, but he knows Louis wants him to stay like this, and Harry wants to be good for Louis more than anything.

He slips a second finger into himself, scissoring and sliding them in and out. He can’t imagine he looks particularly attractive like this, half-balancing on one side, spread wide open and panting at the feel of his own fingers inside himself, but the occasional moan of approval fills him with confidence. He tries to hit his prostate, but the angle is difficult and his wrist hurts already. Instead, he ends up whining against the pillow pathetically and adding another finger.

The stretch is a lot and burns in the most pleasant of ways, but it’s still not enough. The promise of being stuffed full of Louis’ cock is looming over Harry’s head, and as impatient as he is, he pulls out his fingers out of himself earlier than he should, really.

“I’m all ready for your cock,” he says to Louis, keeping his eyes straight and not moving his gaze from where it’s settled on the bedpost. “Please, please fuck me, wanna feel so full of you.” 

Louis hums behind him, and the there’s a slight touch on his hip, pushing his bum down to the bedspread until he collapses down. Harry extends his hands in front of him, facing down, and feels his breath leaves his body as there’s the unmistakable press of an erection against his hole. He doesn’t know when Louis had the mind to take care of it, but there’s a definitive layer of a condom between them, which is both disappointing to Harry as well a bit of a relief at the same time. 

He doesn’t realise Louis barely has his tip inside until he’s withdrawing. 

“What did I say about fingering yourself open, Harry?” he asks, tone serious and stern. When Harry doesn’t answer him, Louis grabs a fistful of his hair and lowers his lips to Harry’s ear. “Answer me, Harry. What did I tell you?” 

“To open myself up well,” Harry whines out, his voice coming out weak. He’s so turned on by the forceful streak of Louis’ behaviour he could cry, but he’s also ashamed he misbehaved.

“Ah, so I didn’t imagine that then,” Louis fake hums. “Then why is your hole so tight I nearly came trying to push into you?” 

“Just wanted your cock, Louis, didn’t wanna wait. Fuck me, just give me your cock, I can handle the burn,” Harry tries to reason with him, but he suspects it comes our more pleading than anything.

“My boy’s so impatient, isn’t he? Wants to be filled with cock, can’t even take care of himself first with how needy he is,” Louis says with a hint of disappointment in his voice. He grabs the tube where it’s still laying in Harry’s palm and after the click of the cap popping open, he inserts three fingers into Harry, doing the prep himself. The movements are arbitrary, no finesse to them, and clearly only to stretch Harry out before Louis fucks into him.

It feels like way too soon that his hole is left empty again, but it feels so much better once Louis’ cock is back, this time entering slowly, but all the way. Harry feels like he might explode with Louis’ cock big and pulsing inside him. He wants to rock back onto it, but not wanting to further disobey Louis, he stays still. 

Louis starts thrusting into him, and a minute later lowers himself onto Harry, covering his back with his chest. He extends his hands on top of Harry’s and intertwines their fingers. He rolls his hips, moving his cock inside Harry and hitting his prostate on the way back in.

Harry’s skin is overheated and Louis’ breath on his neck, his body pinning him down to the bed, he feels on fire. It’s so good, better than he could have (or did) ever imagine. Their bodies slot together seamlessly, Louis’ pelvis rolling into Harry and the softness of Harry’s hips the perfect landing pad for Louis after each powerful thrust. Harry’s cock rubs against the bed and where usually the friction wouldn’t be exactly enough, this time the mental arousal is more than enough.

Harry doesn’t know at which point he starts crying. One moment his brain is too overloaded to focus on anything but the delicious drag of Louis’ cock inside him, and the next there’s tears in his eyes and Louis’ whispering into his ear.

“So beautiful, baby, so good for me. My very best baby. Love you so much, wish I could fuck you forever. Gorgeous, the best I’ve ever had.”

Harry starts sobbing even harder and somewhere between one shaky breath and the next, he comes onto the bedspread, chanting Louis’ name like a mantra. His body sags into the bed after it, powerless and overwhelmed, and he barely feels Louis pull out before he lies down next to him, pressing Harry’s head to his chest and letting him take his time coming down.

He feels utterly wrecked, like he gave all of the energy in his body to Louis and is now left a better, although more timid version of Harry. It feels right.

“Did I do good?” he asks Louis once he gets his mouth and brain to function again. If he concentrates, he can hear Louis’ heartbeat where his head is placed right above his heart, but right now, he’d prefer to hear Louis’ voice.

“So good. Can’t tell you how perfect you were for me, darling. You gave me everything I asked for and more,” Louis assures him. “Couldn’t ask for better.”

“Love you,” Harry tells him. He smiles and reaches to peck Louis’ pec, then giggles at it. 

“What’s so funny?” Louis asks, rubbing Harry’s shoulder where his hand is wrapped around him.

“I just pecked your pec,” Harry giggles again, burying his face in Louis’ body. When he feels the light shaking of Louis’ torso as he laughs, he feels immensely proud. He follows the line of Louis’ body down and notices that Louis’ cock is still hard.

“Lou, you haven’t come,” he notes out loud, turning to look at Louis and furrowing his eyebrows.

“It’s okay, that alone was better than any orgasm I’ve had,” Louis promises him, but Harry gets up nonetheless, pouting at Louis.

“You promised me you’d fuck my mouth, though,” he says wistfully and a bit grumpy. He doesn’t like that Louis’ taken this away from him without warning, that he didn’t even get to see his cock properly.

Louis looks at him with a serious expression on his face, and for a second Harry doesn’t think he’s gonna get what he wants, but Louis must see something in his face that tells him Harry absolutely wants this. He nods slightly. 

“Fine, but I’ll do it gently, okay, baby?” he asks and lazily rolls over to straddle Harry’s chest. Harry settles against a pillow, propping his head up, and opens his mouth to where Louis’ cock is standing full. His mouth waters at the sight and he tilts his neck to get to it, but Louis pushes him back and lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“We go at my pace or we don’t do this at all,” he warns, then feeds Harry his cock.

Louis’ big, which he already guessed as he was fucking him, and it’s a lot to take in. He goes slow, careful to not give him more than an inch at a time, and he gives Harry ample time to adjust to the welcome weight of his cock on Harry’s tongue. It’s a heady feeling, to have Louis like this, to make him feel good with his mouth and give himself over to his pleasure, even if Louis insists on going slow. 

Harry moans around the length in his mouth, and as soon as Louis’ whole cock is in, he wants to start working it. He tells himself to be a good boy and pace himself, though, be what Louis wants him to be, so he fights his instinct.

Louis taps at his jaw slightly, and as Harry’s eyes flicker up from his stomach to his face, he smiles.

“Keep looking over here, okay? Wanna see you,” he explains, withdrawing slightly and then fucking in. He starts up a slow pace, keeping his hand on Harry’s jaw, and keeps their eyes connected the whole time. It’s definitely not rough and Harry can take so much more than this, but despite the physical aspect’s delicateness, the intimacy coursing through them is more intense than anything Harry has experienced before.

He does nearly choke when he loses himself in Louis’ gaze, but recovers quickly, eagerly taking the thrust and feeling the hardness of Louis’ cock in his mouth, on his tongue, the taste sharp and strong.

It’s not long until Louis pulls out, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking barely a few times before he’s catching his come in his hand and on his fingers. He holds eye contact with Harry the whole time.

“Thank you, baby. My boy’s got such a good mouth,” Louis says, and as he moves to presumably wipe his hand off, Harry whines audibly.

“You told me I can have your come if I’m a good boy,” he says, hoping to convey how badly he wants it through one look. He succeeds too, as Louis melts, his face practically shining.

“That I did, didn’t I?” he wonders out loud. “Can’t deny you anything.”

He extends his fingers and brings them up to Harry’s mouth, watching on, transfixed, as Harry brings out his tongue to lick at Louis’ fingers. He gathers the pearly white come and sucks each finger clean, relishing the taste of Louis’ pleasure in his mouth, before humming in satisfaction and looking up at Louis.

“That’s all I wanted,” he says cheekily and sticks his tongue out, now clean.

Louis shakes his head fondly at him. 

“I wonder how you ever doubted you could be anything but a Sub,” he laughs, curling close to Harry and kissing his forehead. “Such a little sex kitten.” 

“What if I am?” Harry laughs, pretending to swipe at his hand as Louis ruffles his hair with his clean hand. “Any complaints?”

“Not a single one.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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